


Emerald Pools

by naberiie



Series: Maybe We're From the Same Star: Arcmaiden (Fives/Rabé) ✵ [2]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gentle Body Worship, Gentle Kissing, Semi-Public Nudity, Sensate Focusing, Skinny Dipping, honeymoon phase
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-05 19:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12195966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naberiie/pseuds/naberiie
Summary: It’ll hurt, being forced apart just as they were brave enough to admit to themselves that this is what they wanted - each other - but Fives doesn’t feel like he’s wasting precious seconds with her, here, in the twilight water gardens of Theed.He’s savoring them.And it’s only when Rabé whispers his name and strokes his bare arms does he finally open his eyes, and begin.





	Emerald Pools

**Author's Note:**

> Sensate focusing: touching and being touched; a technique that helps partners learn to enjoy touch for the sheer pleasure of it.

* * *

“Kiss me, **mercilessly**.  
Leave no corner of me  
**Untouched.”**

\- Beau Taplin

* * *

Walking through Theed at twilight is like walking through a hazy, happy dream. The edges and lines of the city, never very harsh to begin with, have blurred and dimmed, bleeding into each other until lines of separation are barely visible. Light drains from the skies and the streetlights start to pop on, pinpricks of pleasant soft yellow reflecting in the criss-crossing canals. People have quiet conversations on the wide streets, their voices drifting over the waters. Above them all, the Palace rises like a beacon. Rabé wanted to show Fives her home, the city that raised her. Slipping away from the others had been easy. There’s no rush - General Skywalker and the 501st are not due back at the fleet until three days’ time.

They each have to pretend that it is enough.

Fives sometimes raises her hand to kiss it, and she rests her head on his arm, her forehead barely coming up to his shoulder. Sometimes they talk, mostly they revel in simple touches, quietly getting used to each other after months of stolen glances and wistful sighs. She leads them through the nearly empty streets, and if people stare at a handmaiden and an ARC trooper strolling hand-in-hand, they know better than to question it. Here, now, in this moment - they’re not soldiers, though Fives still wears his armor, Rabé her burgundy and gold gown. They can pretend there’s not an endless war raging above their heads, one that will soon pull them apart to opposite sides of the galaxy.

Here, they are simply Fives and Rabé. Together. Just another pair of lovers strolling through the romantic city, lost in each other’s company.

They’re walking past one of Theed’s Canal Districts when Rabé suddenly gets an idea. “Hey,” she says, tugging on Fives’ hand. “Follow me.”

Rabé grew up in Theed. She knows the city like the back of her hand - and she knows that everywhere, hidden in the spaces between marble and terracotta buildings like private altars and oases, the Naboo have created tiny secretive pools and grottos. Water gardens. When she was younger, she and her siblings would scamper through the streets, burrowing into the alleys to find and play in them, and when she became a handmaiden they would sometimes escape the duties of the Palace for these little oases. And now she wants to share them with Fives - her favorite one is nearby. Covered in climbing ivy and vines and flowers, so hidden that few people even know about it, Rabé found it before the Invasion of Naboo and kept it hidden in her heart ever since. She doesn’t know how old it is - old enough that the mosaics on the bottom of the pool depict rulers she doesn’t recognize, stories she can’t read.

Maybe someone, somewhere knows what the stories mean. But she doesn’t want to know - it’s her secret garden, hidden from politics and war. And she wants to bring Fives there.

Fives grins and lets her pull him along, trying to memorize the twisting turns of their new path and eventually giving up. When she sneaks through a tiny passageway carved into a narrow alley wall he laughs and asks where it is, exactly, that she’s taking him.

“You’ll see, now come on!” There’s a spark in her eyes and what else can he do?

What else does he _want_ to do?

He follows her and when they come out on the side, the pool takes his breath away. The water is so still, so calm, such a rich, deep color that he can only faintly make out the mosaic designs as it gets deeper. The stars, steadily bursting forth in the deepening night sky, reflect in the water, and steps are carved into the wide area surrounding the pool, descending straight into the water. Tiny islands covered in huge ferns and plants dot the water, trailing flowers into the pool. It doesn’t seem real.

Rabé’s watching his reaction, and when he turns to her she smiles and squeezes his hand, and then whispers, “Close your eyes.”

He raises an eyebrow but does it anyways. She shuffles a little next to him, and then asks, “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” is the immediate answer.

“Will you follow me?”

“To the edges of the universe.” He means it.

She laughs a little - it’s a little different than her usual self-confident laugh. It’s breathier, higher, like she’s psyching herself up for something. Fives tries to crack open one eye but she catches him immediately. “Don’t open them until I tell you to!”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grins, though. His entire body is electrified. This hidden pool doesn’t feel real. It’s like a dream. He keeps his eyes closed and just listens.

She lets go of his hand. And then there’s a gentle rustling next to him. It takes him a moment, but when she unclips her boots he knows. He waits, breathless, as she removes her boots, the heels clicking gently against the floor.

A soft rustling, a sound that he’s only recently become privy to - the soft murmur of her robes, clutching the fabric, undoing her thick bronze belt, letting them fall to the marble floor with a hushed sigh. Fives’ body tenses automatically - he can hear what she’s doing, he _knows_ what’s happening, a few feet to his side but he cannot open his eyes, he can’t move - and then Rabé takes his hands.

Rabé’s close enough that he can feel her shiver, even though the night is warm. He licks his lips and she giggles softly. Her fingers explore his gloves, searching for the seam, and then she takes them off. She strokes his bare skin and kisses them until he’s smiling, trying to find her cheek to caress it - and then she lowers them, lower, lower lower, until she firmly rests his hands on her naked hips.

Her skin is warm, so warm under his hands.

When he puts his hands on her body he jumps - he’s completely focused on what’s happening in this moment, he can’t believe it but he keeps his eyes shut, even as his grip tightens, even as Rabé presses herself up against his armor, slides her hands up his chest and neck and into his hair and pulls him down for a gentle kiss. Her body burns, even through his armor, every part of her is pressed tight against him, and for a moment he bemoans the armor that separates them. Fives struggles to take a proper breath and she smiles into the kiss before she pulls back. She whispers against his lips, “Remember: eyes closed.”

And then she’s gone, and his body is strangely hot and cold all at the same time and she slips into the water without so much as a sound. He keeps his eyes closed until she calls out, “Fives.” He shivers. Her voice is far away but crystal clear across the still pool.

“Mhm?” It’s all he can manage.

“Open your eyes, and come find me.”

He slowly opens his eyes, and the first thing he registers is the puddle of Rabé’s clothes next to him. She lined her boots up neatly, but left her robes a mess. He stares at it for a moment, then lifts his eyes to the water.

It takes him a moment to the thickening darkness, but then he sees her peering above one of the tiny garden islands.

He stares at her, his mouth suddenly very dry.

She’s taken her hair down, and it trails around her like a pool of ink, covering her - but not really. From her thick conservative robes, to _this_ … He has trouble swallowing, and she stares at him so intently he’s not certain if he can actually move.

Rabé smiles and pulls herself up out of the water, just an inch or so more, and crosses her arms on the marble island, resting her head on her arms as she watches. The spark in her eyes has grown, a dare flicking there - _come find me._

It jolts him back to life. He starts unclipping the plates of his armor, his hands and fingers fumbling for the clasps as he imagines her naked body pressed up against it, mere moments ago. His hands ache to hold her. If he hadn’t stripped from his armor thousands of times before, he’s not sure he’d be able to manage it now, not without the muscle memory.

Fives starts to stack his armor neatly, but quickly decides it’s taking too long. She’s waiting for him, in the waters - what does it matter if he leaves a mess in his scramble to follow her? Who would blame him?

His fingers find the hidden clasps of his bodyglove, on the high collar under his jaw. He starts to unzip, peeling the fabric from his chest and letting it hang from his hips, when he looks at her again.

She’s staring still, but a furious blush has pooled on her cheeks, and he laughs, absolutely delighted. “Your turn. Close your eyes.”

She bites her lip and lays her head down on her folded arms, and Fives slips out of his bodyglove with ease now.

The water is warm but he still shivers a little.

He starts slowly swimming over to where she’s waiting, keeping only his eyes above the water. When she hears his strokes she picks up her head, tosses her hair out of her face, and watches him come towards her for a half-second before she pushes off the island and swims deeper into the shadows of the pool.

She ducks behind a curtain of vines and starts to giggle, breathless, and Fives picks up his pace, chasing her with earnest. He might be an ARC trooper but Rabé is a child of Naboo, a lifetime spent among the canals of Theed. She’s a water nymph, gracefully dodging his grasping fingers, slipping from his grasp at the last minute, her dark eyes mischievous. He laughs, more determined than ever now to catch her.

They play chase for minutes, Rabé outwitting him at every turn, making Fives all the more determined. Every time he gets close, every time he catches her wrist only to have her slip away, the pool of heat in his gut grows. She makes a sharp turn and for a moment Fives thinks she’s vanished, that she’s lost him for good this time, but he stills his movements and listens - and a faint rippling, there, to his right, swimming towards another curtain of vines. He smirks and silently swims to where he’s certain Rabé is hiding.

He pokes his head around the corner, making sure that the water does not betray his location, and his smile grows. She’s pressed up against the back of an island, her long legs treading the water as she keeps an eye out for him. Her hand unconsciously traces a broad, flat leaf where it arches over the edge of the marble, and Fives watches, just for a moment, and imagines her hands tracing the lines of his body like that. He shudders again under the weight of that image.

Rabé starts to pulls herself along the back of the island, towards him, making sure to keep her head below the line of the plants. For all her caution and training, as soon as she’s within his reach Fives quietly lunges for her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist, spinning her around and breathless in triumph.

She has hardly a moment to register what happened, hardly has time to catch her breath or make a sound, before Fives is kissing her as if his life depended on her lips.

Fives catches her and pulls her close and, like they’ve done this a thousand times before, Rabé’s legs automatically wrap around his hips. His hands cup the small of her back, his other twines in her thick hair as he kisses her softly, gently, at first, then harder and deeper. She’s as desperate as he, pulling him towards her, their bodies coiling together as he keeps them both afloat with ease. She’s so small it’s no trouble to keep treading water for her, too, even as he drowns a little under her lips.

He wants to kiss her like this everywhere. He wants to press his lips and tongue and teeth against every sensitive part of her body. He wants to memorize the contours of her, of Rabé, with his lips, and then his hands, and  _then_ his eyes.

So he breaks the kiss, just for a moment, to scout out the place to lay her down. He wonders, briefly, just how many of his skills as an ARC trooper are going to come in handy tonight before Rabé’s kissing his neck and he groans and it suddenly becomes a little more difficult to keep treading water. She giggles and continues, and now it’s all he can do to get them to shallow waters before he collapses.

He starts to swim towards the corner, draped in dark purple shadows, a curtain of dark green leaves and fragrant pink flowers shielding them from any who might stroll by. He thinks of their clothes, his armor, piled before the marble steps, and grins. A lover’s scene: the presence of clothes, quickly discarded; their bodies mysteriously absent. An emerald green pool rippling from an unseen source deep in the shadows.

The picture paints itself.

Fives finds the steps and gently, easily, lifts her out of the water, laying her down on the marble steps still warm from the heat of the day. He doesn’t stop kissing her until she settles underneath him, and for a moment he rests there, above her, his lips brushing over hers. He doesn’t let his eyes open again for a few moments, relishing the warmth of her body under his, the sweet smell of her hair and skin, her quick breathing, her hands on the back of his neck and shoulders - before he lets his eyes, and then his mouth, drink her in, Fives wants to learn about Rabé’s body with his other senses first. He wants to know _everything_.

He presses his forehead to hers, his hands still gripping her thighs from where he hoisted her upwards. Slowly, he moves so that he’s resting on his elbows, cupping her face, stroking her lips and cheeks. Her legs wrap around his, her feet trailing in the water, the gentle ripples and their breathing the only sounds in the grotto.

Their breaths come together: excited, nervous, eager.

Although they’ve only been together for a few weeks at most, Fives has already learned the drunken, dizzying pleasure of delayed gratification, how Rabé likes to tease and pull back just at the moment of fulfillment. She’s an excellent teacher.

He’s a fast learner.

Delayed gratification, the pleasure-pain of waiting, was the governing principle of those maddening months before they finally, _finally_ admitted to themselves what they wanted.

And it will be the governing principle of their relationship as it develops. Fives feels like Rabé is a comet that only comes close to him on the rarest, most spectacular and awe-inspiring of moments. Or maybe he’s the comet: crashing towards her, burning bright and fast before their time is up, before duty calls them apart, far too soon for his liking.

It’ll hurt, being forced apart just as they were brave enough to admit to themselves that this is what they wanted - each other - but Fives doesn’t feel like he’s wasting precious seconds with her, here, in the twilight water gardens of Theed.

He’s _savoring_ them.

And it’s only when Rabé whispers his name and strokes his bare arms does he finally open his eyes, and begin.

Rabé watches him watch her, and he grins, a little mischievously. He’s going to take his time, and if she’s not writing and begging for him in fifteen minutes… She bites her lip, like she guesses his plan. She probably does. Fives smiles again and settles himself into a more-or-less comfortable position, half in the water, on his knees to worship her.

He begins with her face.

Her lips. He’s already well acquainted with them, but they’re intoxicating and delicious and he’s already addicted, he can never get enough.

Her nose and cheeks, dusted with star-like freckles. She told him the Naboo call them sun-kisses, and he thinks he can taste the bright sun infused into her soft skin, like it adores her as much as he does.

Her earlobes. When she gasps and moans as he nibbles on her ear it takes every ounce of his training to restrain himself, to hold himself back; _wait, wait_.

Her jawline. As he traces it with his tongue Rabé moves with him, tilting her chin to the stars above, giving him access, daring him to try new angles. And, of course, he obliges her. Her fingers twitch with pleasure and he makes note of that, makes note of how her body reacts to which touches, which kisses.

And as he’s learning the contours of her body with his lips, as he’s exploring her with the reverence she deserves, his hands wander, too. They keep returning to her hips, though. He traces the side of her body, back to her waist, down to her knees, back up again.

He dives for another kiss and when he surfaces for air, he leans back and holds his hand over her stomach, letting droplets of water fall onto her taut stomach, the curve of her thighs, watching the tiny rivulets form as they trace her muscles and bones, following with his fingers - and then his tongue, softly, softly, softly, down down down down _down_ until Rabé is shaking, tiny breathy gasps and moans escaping her throat - he watches her, her eyes shut tight, eyebrows pulled together in delicious agony, and Fives realizes it’s his touch. He’s making her react like this, feel like this, her scrambling hands and digging heels act on their own, and he thinks he’s never seen a more beautiful sight in all the galaxy.

He lets her catch her breath, lets her calm down, lets her rest for a moment before he goes to her collarbones - he kisses the point where her robes would come together, kisses her sternum as his hands trace lazy, luxurious patterns on her thighs, getting close and then drawing away - to Rabé’s wordless complaints. _Wait, wait_ , he wants to tell her.

But he can’t remember how to speak, either.

He kisses her long, lovely neck, nibbling and sucking until she’s wearing a necklace of delicate red bruises. She sighs when he pulls away to admire his work. She runs a hand over her throat, smiling at the thought of them. Her eyes are closed, and Fives wonders what they’ll look like tomorrow - if she’ll cover them or wear them proudly. Something in her happy sighs tells him she’ll have no problem flaunting the marks of his lips, and all of a sudden the thought roars up in his head: _She’s_ _mine_ _._

Now he has to calm down for a moment - he still has so much left to explore, to learn and touch and kiss and nibble and stroke - and Rabé takes his pause to mean it’s her turn, now. She opens her eyes, sees his dazed, bewildered but exceptionally happy gaze and smiles. She tries to reach for him, tries to sneak her hand under his body to grip him, stiff and aching, begging for release, but he catches her hand and kisses her palm. “Not yet,” he says, his voice trembling a little. “Not yet.”

 _N_ _ot me,_ he thinks, kissing her hand again, staring at her, breathing hard. _You, it’s all for you._

She smiles again and leans back and lets him continue.

He goes to kiss her breasts but pulls away at the last moment. When she makes a small, desperate, begging noise, one hand come up to placate her, but his lips are making their way along the soft, sensitive parts of her arm as his fingers stroke and rub and lightly pinch. He can’t believe how smooth her skin is, how soft it is under his rough hands. He’s gentle, reverent, even as he rolls her nipples between his fingers until they’re stiff and Rabé sounds like she quite forgot how to breathe.

And when he’s done with one arm, after he kisses her fingertips, when he’s certain he’s traced every scar and freckle and line of her arm, he kisses his way from her wrist to her shoulder. She drapes it over his shoulder, her nails lightly scraping the back of his neck as he moves along her collarbones to her other arm.

He pauses, even though the thought of any distance between their bodies is enough to drive him mad. He stares at her, in wonder, and she stares back. They don’t need to say anything. Soft wordless murmurs and sighs and nods are all they need.

Fives runs his finger along a long scar on her thigh - whoever did it cut a divot into her hip, thankfully not deep enough to hit the bone - the tissue long healed but still he presses his lips to it, runs his tongue up its length, aching that she was hurt but adoring her ferocity and determination. Like him, her history is carved into her body, and he wants to know, to kiss, every single one of the scars that marks her as a fighter. A warrior. His hands find another - the one on her left side, the shatterpoint just under her ribcage. He’ll ask about them, ask about all the ones he doesn’t know about, one day.

Not now.

Both their breaths are coming faster now, the base of Rabé’s throat is flushed deep wine red and every breath against her skin makes her tremble. Her hands clench and scrape his back, jumping with a mind of their own. Fives is having trouble keeping his thoughts in order, having trouble reminding himself to pace slowly, to take his time, as he watches her react to his touch. _Soon, soon._ He won’t be able to wait for very much longer. Seeing Rabé writhe under his hands… he takes a breath and succumbs to her body once more, closing the distance.

He leaves her legs for last, every movement drawing to her center, spiraling, closer and closer, and by the time he presses his lips to the soft skin of her inner thigh the only thing she can say, the only word that makes it past her lips, shaking and desperate and hoarse and pleading, is, “Fives, Fives, _Fives…”_

_Now._

* * *

"Down to the bottom, ten thousand emerald pools.  
You're all I need to breathe,  
I'll dive in deeper, deeper for you:  
[**You're all I need to breathe**.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L4GrDOOIIbk)"

\- BØRNS

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Eva/evaceratops for a. showing me this fantastic song, and b. being my go-to for scene ideas and rough drafts ❤ we take our jobs of trying to out-fluster each other with Fives/Rabé scenes very, very seriously.


End file.
